User talk:Jestaree2
Welcome Part I of The Fetch I'd learned of this weird chick on the news. The anchorman said that she'd lure in victims, all young teenagers, seduce them, and promptly kill them. A few reports said that she'd even fuck them afterwards. I didn't think much of it at the time, of course. "Another crazy bitch in this country killing people, yawn!" ... My friend Mikey was really interested in this crazy broad, though. He had this weird infatuation with gore and necrophilia. I dealt with it, because I myself have bit of a fetish for the nasty, bloody side to the bedroom. Mikey went overboard to find the girl though. He wanted her on tape in the act of one of her killings, a real snuff. From the moment she hit the local news, he started carrying around a digital camera and paid special attention to everything. "Izzy, I'm going to find this little psycho, I'm telling you!" he had said after school. We were walking up the sidewalk along the main street towards the In-N-Out. It was a long walk, but worth it. "C'mon, think about it. Who knows more about crazy girls than me?" He had a point. Mikey had dated plenty of crazy girls in the past. He knew what made them tick. I really didn't want him looking for the girl on TV mostly because he might really find her. "Yeah, Mike, whatever you say, bro" I laughed. I couldn't hide the fear in my voice. After we got In-N-Out, I headed home. He said he was going to run down to the library before home so he'd get the latest manga that was donated there. That was the last time I saw Mikey alive. The next morning, I woke all wet and sore. It was like I walked a marathon and then showered. I got dressed and came downstairs to see that my mom was sitting in the living room, staring at the television. She seemed so sad and worried. I glanced at the TV, expecting it to be another killing from this girl, and I was right. And, duh, as you can already tell, it was Mike. Cliche story already, am I right? Anyway, I convinced my mom to drive me to the crime scene, in an alleyway -- again, cliche as fuck -- in the downtown. How he made it down there, I'll never know. Policemen and news reporters, as well as a couple journalists and plenty of bystanders, crowded around the naked, ragged remains of my friend. He lay bare on the concrete, on his stomach -- decency was his strong suit believe it or not, even in the afterlife -- with human bite marks and slashes covering his entire body. His fingers looked broken, as if he held onto something that didn't want to be held. Entire chunks of his flesh had been eaten. I heard a couple of offices also mention sexual assault. It was too much for me to listen and see. I went home and locked myself in my room. Curled into fetal position against the door, my eyes darted to every little thing around my room. I noticed Mike's digital camera lying on my desk. How didn't I see that before? I hooked the camera up to my PC and started to watch the last video on it. Why? I don't know. I wish I didn't. The video went much like this: Mike had the camera aimed on the street, where a dark figure stood far off. You could hear him almost giddy with excitement that he might just have caught this psychotic girl on camera. But as the figure came closer, you could hear his giddy becoming fear and confusion. He started to back up, then bolted and ran in the other direction. There was a foot shot of his sneakers speeding over the sidewalk. There was the suddenness of the scene he was killed at. He turned to point the camera around. It was promptly followed by a figure dressed in what I think was a purple jacket and brown cargos -- I couldn't see the face then -- lashing at the camera and knocking it over. The camera landed out of view of the next scene, but the noises of a woman moaning, of Mike screaming for his life, and flesh being ripped from bone weren't hidden, not at all... After about five minutes, after Mikey stopped screaming, the attacker had walked in front of the camera's view. I could only see the bare legs of a girl, scarlet dripping down her legs. She picked the camera up and started walking off. The camera kept a view at her feet. They were bare. I had to fast forward this part due to my ADD. When I pressed play, the video's scene brought me to a familiar location. My bathroom. The camera was placed on the floor, pointing upwards at the ceiling. The girl could be seen, full naked. Blood covered her legs, thighs, arms, and chest. She was filling up the bathtub with water. She turned to the camera so I could see her face, her bloody face, clearly for the first time. A finger was brought to the full lips, letting her have that one last taste of blood. I paused the video. And I knew where I saw this face before. I saw... me... PART II of The Fetch Fetch in folklore is supernatural creature that can double another person's appearance. They are commonly though of as a death omen or a sign of impending doom. The Fetch is more commonly referred to as a Doppelganger, but are more malicious than Doppelgangers. Although they are very malevolent, they are also very strict in whose death they are responsible for... but some go rogue... " Hello. My name is Isabelle. I live in a big town -- or a small city -- in the United States within the outskirts of the suburbs. I am 15. That is all you need to know about me. As of late, I've learned a few rather gruesome things. One, there is something attacking the teen-aged boys around here. Two, this thing looks familiar to the person I've come to know as myself in the mirror every morning. And three, it has killed my best friend, Mike. I've decided a few things, too. That I'm going to rid this world of this... thing. By the time I got my hands on the video camera that showed who the psycho was and Mikey's death, there had been eighteen victims. All male. All teenagers. All of them had been brutally slaughtered, some portions of their bodies were butchered with human hand and tooth. Most of them had been raped after their deaths as well. Here I sat curled up at my desk, the face of myself on the computer monitor staring glossily into space. Blood dripped from her slightly parted lips. A finger, mingled with the white of flesh and crimson of blood, was brought just slightly into that cannibalistic mouth. It terrified me to look at the screen. That couldn't possibly be me, could it? She looks wet, and she walked a long way... and then I woke up the next morning wet and sore. But I could never kill someone, could I? Could I? No. That wasn't me. This was someone else who just looks like me. Why was I sore and wet that morning, though? No, that's coincidence. It was probably just hot and I sweat a lot. It's not like I was /soaked/. But if this person looked like me, and was doing this horrible things, it was only a matter of time before I'd get framed for her murders. I had to put an end to this crazy bitch before that happened. Taking the video camera into my hand, I pressed my lips against the cool metal side. "I'll get her, Mike. For you. I'll get her." Many of my days were spent searching ever dark crevice, every hidey-hole in town. I kept a notebook that documented every one of the smallest detail for each and every kill the psycho made. I came to the conclusion that she liked only men to prey on. Every victim woke on their stomach, naked, butchered, with chunks of meat and flesh bitten out of them and lacerations scattered only on their backs. It took me a minute to realize those were claw marks from a girl's sharpened fingernails... Eugh... That didn't sit to happily in my think-pan, I'll tell you that much. Every crime scene was somewhere dark and hidden, but simultaneously at high populated places in town. Whenever I wasn't investigating, I was researching. It seemed the killer was either a doppelganger, a wraith, or a fetch... All are creatures of death and evil. They all mimic. They are all dark and soulless monsters than consume all that is life. Yep, that sounded right! The closer I got to finding where she was, the more often kills would appear on the news. When it started to be every night and every morning, I knew that something was up. The manner of death was always the same. Always. But the locations of the deaths gradually got closer to my neighborhood... I hadn't let go of Mikey's camera since I found it on my desk. I slept with it even. And here I was asleep, holding the camera tightly to my chest. Something woke me, and I shot my eyes open and whipped my head to look in the direction of whatever did. Oh... god... what was that... I switched the camera on and took a quick snapshot of it. There was a bloody version of me on her hands and knees in the middle of my bedroom. Her soaked hair hung over her face. Once the flash had gone off though, the girl -- no... it wasn't a girl. It was a THING -- shot her dark, glazed eyes in my direction. The eyes, they were dark grey, and had no light in them. No life in them. The thing grinned, showing the mouthful of sharp teeth, arranged in a snake-ish way. A dark roar pitted deep within her slender, alabaster throat. I dashed to the other side of my bed and grasped the neck of the Barcelona bass guitar resting against the wall. By the time I got a steady hold, the creature was already barreling toward me on hands and knees. Her joints bent wrong... She walked on the back of her hand and it took a moment to see it, but he legs were backwards! It was disgusting and disturbing, like something out of the Exorcist! I swung the bass at her head. The crack of vertebrae sounded like a gun shot. Her neck had snapped right to the side. I... I could see the vertebrae sticking out her skin... It made me vomit. But I couldn't sit there and hurl. I didn't have the time. Breaking her neck only slowed her down. With her greasy, reddened hands, she snapped her neck back into place. No, no no no no no no no, this isn't happening! Dropping my bass guitar, I bolted out of my room through my window. I ran across the roof tiles, trying to get to the other side of the house. I could hear her following me with every crackle of twisted bone and joint. She had me cornered against the side of the roof. I only had one way to escape her. I couldn't hesitate here! For a moment, it seemed that my brain didn't even have control over my body as it threw itself off the roof and to the hard driveway below. Then everything became black. I woke next in a hospital room. My left arm and both of my legs were broken from the fall. My mom was there sitting by my side, asleep. She must've been there for days. I could tell by how greasy her hair was, and all of her stuff brought into the room in that green tote bag of hers. I looked at the calendar on the opposite wall. I'd been unconscious for about a week... A normal kid would wonder about school, their friends, their social life, and so on. But I couldn't think about that. All I could think was... This wasn't over. Part III of The Fetch ;; Final She stalks me, I know she does. That shadow with my face! That black mirror! She stalks me. She knows I've caught on that she's the killer. She knows that I know what she is. She isn't even a she! She's an IT! And she knows everything. Everywhere I look, The Fetch follows me. I can see her milky gaze from every shadowed corner of the room, in every alley, in my closet, in any area not touched by the holiness of the sun. That milky gaze. Those inhuman teeth. That fucking face! It's everywhere! Ever since I left the hospital, she's lurked in my vision. I spent so much time huddled up in my room, all of the lights on. I don't sleep anymore. No one will believe my words. They don't believe of the fake-me roaming around. They can't see the blood from my bass when I snapped The Fetch's neck. Oh no. They can't see what is clearly before their eyes. I have to show my parents The Fetch. I'll have to draw her out in front of them and show them her existence. Me and my parents have gone out to the movies. It's dark here. I can see her crouched just out of the light. She can't run away. She cannot. Run. Away. Now's my opportunity. "Hey! Mom look! Look at it! It's right there!" I scream at the top of my lungs. I lunge from my seat and run to The Fetch. The creature stands completely still. She does not react to my closeness to her or my exposing her. "It's the thing! The thing that sent me over the roof!" Everyone in the theatre stares at me as though I was nuts. Like I was talking to nothing. God, what's wrong with them!? The Fetch is right here! I send fists barreling towards The Fetch, and I feel my knuckles touch flesh. Soft flesh. Not like The Fetch would have, but the flesh of a child. My eyes re-adjust to what I'm looking out. I've... I've just pummeled a little boy! Where had The Fetch gone? Is this another trick of hers?! Everyone stares at me in disgust. I've beaten a little boy bloody unconscious. What have I become? What has The Fetch done to me? I'm taken to the mental hospital. Committed into a rubber room. Straight jacket. Alone here in this room of white, I've come to terms with the fact it was all what the doc called "schizophrenia." In fact, they say the real killer was caught. An older pedophile-type man. The Fetch was an angry figment of my imagination borne from the fact Mikey was slaughtered. The video tape on the camera was corrupted. There's no proof of The Fetch's existence. It was all in my head... She still is staring at me from the corner of the room. She's getting closer. Why's the world getting black? I can't hear anymore. Help me. Her claws are in my stomach... I can feel and see blood.. It's all fake, though, right? Right? picture-1.jpg|Me.jpg picture-2.jpg|DSC06458.jpg please...God....help me.jpg|please...God....help me